


Masquerade

by NinjaSniperKitty



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bukkake, Dubious Consent, Foursome, Gangbang, Hand Jobs, Jack Morrison doesn't deserve half the crap I put him through, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot convenience, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Smut.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-18 20:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16524494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaSniperKitty/pseuds/NinjaSniperKitty
Summary: Soldier: 76 gets word of a masquerade ball being held for some of Talon's richest donors and uses it as an opportunity to take down Talon's inner council. Fortunately for him, he manages to sneak in without a hitch. Unfortunately for him, some of the Talon guards mistake him for a prostitute.





	Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> Done for a request I got on Tumblr! I altered some stuff from the request, but here's 5,000 words of silly convenience plot and smut!  
> 
> 
> _SWEATS_

He had heard a rumor about a Talon operation guised as a masquerade ball in Venice, Italy.

His confidant, a Talon operative he'd gotten ahold of—with about six broken bones that was now holed up in a hospital somewhere—had relented and given him the details: 6:00 PM at some conference center in two days. According to the operative, some of the Talon inner council would be there. Take them down, and the rest of Talon would soon follow.

Soldier 76 was on a plane to Italy bright and early the next day.

It wasn't hard to find the place; all you had to do was follow the trail of pompous costumed jackasses. Everyone that was anyone was apparently invited to the event. All he had to do was steal one of their invitations and he was golden.

He had no idea what to expect from a political masquerade ball. Sure, he'd read stories about them as a kid and seen depictions of them in movies, but he never thought that they were a thing that still went on.

He knew some of the men to keep an eye out for: Doomfist, Maximilien, Korpal. Other than that he was going in blind. Not the most desirable situation, but he would have to make do. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and he wasn't going to pass it up. He would keep a low profile, lay low until he found his targets, and then strike.

\------

Soldier 76 arrives at the event with his “invite” in hand. He’s woefully underdressed in comparison to the other guests. While they have elegant costumes of the finest fabrics and detailed masks that look like they cost a pretty penny, he has a white dress shirt and a simple gold eye mask that he grabbed last minute at the store. It's apparently enough, though, because the guards at the front door let him in without question.

From the outside, no one would have been able to tell that this was a Talon-sponsored event, that all of these people are working with one of the largest terrorist groups of their time. They are all guilty by association, and it makes 76 angry to think about it. Angry that so many people are at this party. Angry that only a handful of these people will ever see justice and that there’s nothing he can do about it because there’s just far too many of them hiding behind their politics and influence like the cowards they are. Instead, they get invited to expensive parties like this—as long as they keep the money coming in—and the donors get to wear their fancy costumes every once in a while, never once thinking about all of the innocent lives Talon has taken.

The party is divided into two parts: a dining area and a dancefloor where very few people are actually dancing. Probably because they're afraid of breaking a heel, 76 thinks with a sneer. There are small groups of people chatting along the outskirts of all of this.

76 can easily pick out the Talon guards in their full gray combat gear scattered about. They’re hard to miss being the only people wearing gray in a crowd of red and silver. They’re also the only ones wielding rifles, as far as he can tell. Plenty of guards in sight, but he can't find anyone that fits the description of the Talon leaders he had come here to find. Just his luck.

Soldier 76 works his way to the outskirts of the ballroom to keep an eye out for anyone who may be entering or leaving the reception. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, and observes. At least an hour goes by without a trace of them. The crowd is getting noticeably drunker as the evening goes on. They're beginning to flock to the dancefloor in stumbling droves with drinks in hand. He has seen more than one costume that night get ruined by an accidental wine spill. It's pretty entertaining to watch, all things considered, but he’s here on a mission. No time to watch these people make idiots out of themselves.

From the corner of his eye, 76 can make out two Talon guards in the corner chatting and giving him sidelong glances. They’re clearly talking about him, 76 gathers, and this makes him apprehensive about what they could be talking about. Did they figure out that he wasn't a guest? His mind races with potential possibilities. Better to not find out, he supposes, and he scoots farther away along the wall from the guards.

The guards finally approach him. They're trying to make it discreet, but 76 notices them gradually getting closer until they're only a few feet away. Finally, he dares to look at them, to let them know that he’s aware of what they're doing. They apparently take the look as an excuse to walk up to him and 76 can't help but scowl.

One of the guards—the taller one—takes off his helmet and gives him a smile. He's young, maybe in his mid-20s. Far too young to be working for Talon.

“Are you having a good time?” the guard asks. Upon getting no response from 76, he continues. “Why are you all the way over here? Shouldn't you be out there having fun?”

“Sometimes I just prefer to watch,” 76 replies gruffly. He crosses his arms. “Did you two need something, or…?”

The other guard nudges the unmasked guard in the ribs but he's quick to brush him away. The unmasked guard clears his throat before speaking up again. He barely speaks above a whisper. “Are you one of the, uh, prostitutes that Talon hired?”

His eyebrows shoot up and 76 has to do a double take to make sure he heard him correctly. “ _Come again?_ ”

The Talon guard taps the bridge of his nose. “Your gold mask. That's the sign, right?”

76 rips his attention away from the guards and over to the rest of the crowd. Sure enough, none of the guests are wearing gold masks except for a couple of scantily clad women sitting on the laps of laughing rich men. All of the color shoots to his face because he _sure as hell didn't get that memo_ when he bought this mask from the dollar store. He throws his hands up defensively. “What? No, I'm not a prostitute!”

“Yeah, he's not a prostitute,” the masked Talon guard throws an arm around his shoulder and speaks up for the first time that night. “They preferred to be called sex workers. C’mon, show some goddamn respect to the man.”

Shit. The situation is starting to quickly spiral out of control. He has to think this through. He hadn’t really planned on _any_ of this, but maybe he can find a way to work around it. Use this to his advantage somehow. He just needs to think of the how.

Standing around was clearly getting him nowhere. If the Talon leaders were hiding behind the scenes right now, it was unlikely that they were just gonna march down and announce their presence. He had to be tactical about this. Maybe he could get the guards to take him to one of the rooms that were off-limits to the public. It’d be a lot less suspicious if he had an escort than if he went up there by himself.

It was worth a shot and the best idea he had at the moment. Taking a deep breath, he smiles at the man and wraps an arm around his waist.

“See? You just gotta play nice with ‘em and they'll warm up.” The masked guard lowers his voice. “We were talkin’ earlier. Thought it was interesting that you were the only male sex worker here.” He dips his head towards him. “Why don't you show my buddy and I a good time, handsome?”

76 has to fight the bile that wants to rise up in his throat. He hates this, hates the fact that he’s even considering it right now to get intel. Words escape him, so instead he just shoots the man another smile for them to interpret as they please. It’s apparently enough, and the masked guard starts to lead him away by the shoulder.

The guards lead him away from the party and up a set of stairs leading to the second floor. He feels like he’s being marched to his death; any onlooker would assume that he’s in trouble with Talon rather than about to show two of their operatives a “good time”—whatever that means. They take a left at the top and go down a bleak-looking hallway. The floors and walls are both gray, much less grandiose than the first floor of the building. There's several doors on each side of the hall, and 76 can't help but wonder where these guards are taking him. Or about which of doors leads to wherever the hell Doomfist is hiding.

The guards finally stop at a door on the left and enter. Judging by the large table in the center and the sheer number of chairs, they’ve taken him to some sort of empty conference room. The door clicks shut behind him, and he’s suddenly stuck in a room with two armed Talon operatives and he doesn’t know what to do.

The shorter guard, the one that had had his arm draped over his shoulder, goes to remove his helmet and sets it on the table. He’s much older and more grizzled than the other guard, maybe in his early 40s, and looks like he’s seen his fair share of battles judging by the scars along his upper lip and nose.

Soldier 76 stands there awkwardly looking around, unsure of what to do with himself. He can see the taller guard making sidelong glances at him and shooting him shy half-smiles. It would almost be endearing if it wasn’t in this context, he thinks. The guard goes to set his helmet down next to the other one before approaching him, obviously nervous.

“Have you ever done this before?” 76 dares to ask, even though he already knows the answer.

“No, but, uh, I’ve heard about it. From other people.”

_Great._

The taller guard wraps his arms around his waist with hesitation and leans in to kiss him and 76 grudgingly obliges. It's a chaste kiss, not horribly unpleasant. It makes him realize just how dry his lips are. He would have been okay if this was all they meant by “a good time.” He could do kissing no problem. But the way the other guard is staring is unsettling him.

He gets an idea. “Does your boss wanna get in on this?” 76 dares to ask. ”He's the one that, uh,” he thinks for a moment, “paid us, after all.” Stupid, but it doesn't hurt to try.

The tall guard pulls back a bit. “Our boss? Nah, I don't think he's into this kind of stuff.”

“He’s missing out, then. Where is he, anyway? I need to thank him.”

He shrugs. ”He's around somewhere. He usually just makes his rounds during these parties.” The guard goes for the buttons on 76’s white dress shirt and makes quick work of them. He reverently trails a gloved hand down his bare chest, runs a thumb along a wide scar along his pec. Looking past the guard, 76 can see that the second one has already undone the fly to his pants and is currently stroking his half-hard cock. The expression on 76’s face turns to disgust, but he's quick to hide it by pressing a brief kiss to the jawline of the guard in front of him.

His intentions are all too clear now.

“Get on your knees for me, babe. I want you to suck my dick,” says the shorter guard, and it takes everything 76 has not to go over there and punch him.

He could do this. If he could get through a war, then he could deal with blowing some guy if it meant he could take down Talon. This was nothing in comparison to warfare. He could do this.

As per command, the vigilante gets down on his knees. The taller guard is quick to copy the other guard and pulls himself out of his pants as well. The two surround him expectantly. 76’s mind is racing a mile a minute. His face feels flushed.

He could do this.

Tentatively, he reaches out and wraps his hands around both of them. He'd given handjobs to strangers before on especially drunken nights in his youth; this was nothing new. But it’s the fact that it's Talon that’s unsettling him now. He starts to pump his hands in time anyway and one of the guards lets out a small grunt in pleasure.

Suddenly, there’s the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall. They stop. He can see the masked face of Reaper _of all fucking people_ peer in through the door window, and his heart almost stops.

_He wasn’t supposed to be here._

He tilts his head slightly before 76 hears the sound of the doorknob being turned, and all of a sudden all movement in the room stops. The soldiers’ eyes are no longer looking him over like a piece of meat; instead, their eyes are glued to the dark-robed figure walking through the door. 76 can feel the tension building as he stops in front of them, silent. The vigilante quickly drops his hands back to his sides and just watches. He has no idea what to expect, what Reaper would do next upon walking in on this. His face is unreadable behind the mask, and that worries him.

The two soldiers go to make themselves decent but are stopped when Reaper raises a dismissive hand at them.

“Enjoying the celebration?” Reaper asks. The tone of his voice is casual, as if he had just walked into an ordinary meeting and not two of his men getting handjobs. If Reaper is bothered by what he sees, he makes no indication of it.

The two Talon agents give each other a glance, unsure of what to make of the situation. They look back at Reaper with what 76 can only describe as subtle fear on their faces.

Upon getting no answer, the masked man raises another dismissive hand. “Don't mind me,” he rasps, and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Unmoving.

76 is unsure of what to do. The soldiers keep shooting each other uncomfortable glances. Neither one seems eager for him to resume his attentions with the wraith standing there. 76 coughs and goes to stand up. “I’ll just… go.”

“You'll stay right there,” Reaper says harshly as he snaps his attention to him. His tone brokers no room for arguments.

Several moments of uncomfortable silence go by before Soldier 76 feels a tentative hand in the back of his head, pushing his face towards the taller soldier's cock. He doesn't want to do this, not when Reaper‘s eyes are on him like this. But the ball is in his court now, and he's not about to blow this over modesty. Taking a deep breath, 76 wraps a hand around the base of the soldier's length and takes him into his mouth. It tastes foul, like a mix of musk and sweat. But he seems to enjoy it enough at least, if the stuttered inhale of breath is any indicator.

Not to be left out, the second soldier steps closer, cock out, and almost smacks him in the face with it. Soldier 76 nudges him father away by pushing at his hips and starts running his loose fist along the length of his cock. Doing both actions at once is harder than he realizes, but he finally manages to get some semblance of a rhythm down.

More footsteps. 76 manages to see out the corner of his eye Reaper walking over to the conference room table and pulling one of the chairs off to the side. He sits down on it, his hands resting on his spread thighs. Casual, like he’s watching a goddamn football game, 76 thinks. He tries to block out the idea of Reaper‘s eyes on him. A hard task, considering how imposing the wraith is.

The taller Talon guard gets his attention again by nudging his mouth further onto his dick and 76 takes him deeper. The sooner he can get this over with, the sooner he can get back to work, he supposes. He does his best to try and run his tongue along him while bobbing his head.

76 hears what almost sounds like a low growl coming from somewhere off to his side followed by the sound of a zipper being undone. He pulls off of the guard and turns his head to find that Reaper has undone the front of his pants and has started languidly jerking himself off. Blood rushes to 76’s face. Had he really fallen this far, to the point where he was giving enemy soldiers blowjobs and serving as jerk off material for terrorists?

He has to keep his objective in mind; if he could pull this off, then it could be the downfall of Talon. Thousands of innocent lived could be saved if he could just get ahold of that data and kill some of their leaders. He _has_ to remember that.

The other terrorist—the short one—takes advantage of him turning his head by placing a finger under his chin and directing his mouth towards his cock instead. There’s a grunt of displeasure from the first guard as he switches between the two, replacing his mouth on his length with his hand instead.

Reaper continues to sit there, still as a statue besides the movement of his hand, just observing them. Dangerous. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking beneath that mask. Even though he can’t see his eyes, he feels like his gaze is sweeping over him and taking in every detail of his skin. It makes him feel self-conscious as he continues to pleasure the two Talon guards in silence.

He hears the sound of a chair scooting on wood and notices Reaper standing up out of the corner of his eye and walking over to the group. His cock is still out and reaches up dark and heavy towards his belly. 76 can't keep his eyes off it, and all of a sudden Reaper is standing right beside him.

Reaper pushes at the shoulder of the guard who 76 currently has his mouth wrapped around. “Move.”

“What?” The guard places a protective hand on the back of vigilante's head and continues to urge him deeper. “I just got here!”

Reaper pushes at his shoulder again, harder this time. “As your commanding officer, you’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you to. _Move._ ”

76 pulls off of the man in time to see him curl his lip at the masked figure. He's no idiot though and steps off to the side; saying no to Reaper is a death wish, and he knows it.

Reaper is quick to fill the space he has left for him, and 76’s eyes are immediately drawn to the thick cock right in front of his face now. He's the biggest of the them, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't intimidated by the thought of putting it in his mouth. This was only supposed to have been the two guards; never did he think when going on this mission that he would be sucking the dick of the man who had been trying to kill him for years. The danger of the whole situation makes his adrenaline-filled blood pound in his veins.

76 glances up, just to make sure Reaper is being serious about what he thinks he’s being serious about. The wraith is staring back down at him expectantly. Reaper gives his cock a few preliminary strokes before grabbing himself and holding it to his lips.

“Open.”

_Damn._

Soldier 76 licks his lips, shoots a teeth-bearing apprehensive smile up at him. Reaper lets out a pleased noise as he licks a tentative trail up his hard length and laps up the fluid already pooling at the tip of him, stalling for a few moments before daring to take the head of him into his mouth. He tastes heady, masculine. Better than the other two, at least, and much bigger.

He has to keep his objective in mind.

The guard that had been brushed off approaches again with uncertainty. 76 tries his best to ignore him, focusing only on Reaper instead; two people is hard enough to manage and he doesn't need a third to complicate it any more.

“Well?” Reaper tilts his head towards the guard in waiting. “Aren't you going to do your job, whore?”

76 directs every negative thought he can muster towards the mask-clad figure, considers biting him if it wouldn't surely result in a bullet to the head. Grudgingly, Soldier 76 wraps his free hand around the other guard’s length and starts to stroke him.

He's now giving a handjob with each hand and laving over Reaper’s cock with his tongue and _Christ_ , if he wasn't feeling like a used slut earlier he certainly is now. It feels wrong. If word of this got out, he would be done for. Shame sits heavy in his gut like a pound of bricks.

The air is thick with the smell of sex and testosterone and all he can hear is their heavy breathing. It makes him want to gag.

Reaper’s hands are resting on his shoulders. He’s so close, close enough for him to see the dark smoke that moves in and out of his mask with every breath. His nose tickles with the smell of gunpowder that clings to his skin. Reaper runs a clawed hand along the bottom of his jaw and tilts his head up a bit, forcing him to make eye contact. He speaks just above a whisper, “Nice to see you again, Jack.”

His heart almost stops, his body suddenly refusing to move. How had he known? He’d been so careful, so meticulous in his planning. _He wasn't supposed to be here._ 76 shoots a quick glance at the other soldiers; if they heard him, they don’t respond. Thank god for that, at least. He wiggles uncomfortably under Reaper’s gaze but refuses to acknowledge him.

Reaper speaks up again. “I’d know those scars anywhere, especially that nice one in your chest there.”

Without thinking, 76 looks down at the scar on his chest that stretches from his left pec down to his side that is visible beneath his shirt. That one had been from a blade. His thoughts drift to how he’d stepped in front of it, blocking Reyes with his own body, before wrestling the weapon out of a crazed omnic supporter’s hand. That little stint had caused him about 50 stitches, but it was worth it. He would have gladly done it again to protect the Blackwatch commander. But now…

He's suddenly in a _very_ dangerous position. If the wraith knew who he was, there’s nothing stopping him from just killing him right then and there and there is nothing he can do about it in his current position. He might be able to take Reaper, but he knows he doesn't stand a chance against Reaper _and_ two Talon soldiers.

As if reading his mind, Reaper chuckles quietly. “I can see the fear in your eyes. Don't worry, _cariño_ , I have no intention of killing you here. As long as you keep satisfying my men and I, anyway.”

His thoughts are quickly brought back to reality as Reaper gives a sharp thrust of his hips with enough force to trigger his gag reflex. Reaper places a hand on the back of his head to keep him from pulling away and it takes all of 76’s willpower not to bite down. Tears well up in his eyes and he tries his best to readjust.

Reaper lets out a low groan above him at the feeling of his throat contracting around him and finally releases his hold on his head, letting him pull off and breath. He doesn't know what to expect out of the wraith now that he knows it's him. The wraith had said that he wouldn't kill him, but would he really get to walk out of there alive? Surely Reaper wouldn't just let him leave like that. This has been a terrible mistake. His throat is on fire, but he takes a deep breath and swallows him back down anyway.

Several minutes of relative silence, punctuated by the occasional breathy groan or grunt, go by. His hands are starting to cramp from their repeated motions. He can see Reaper’s chest rising and falling with heavy breaths above him, which encourages 76 to pick up his pace. Apparently it's enough, because a pitiful moan is ripped from the taller soldier‘s throat.

“Shit,” the soldier pants, “I’m gonna… Can I finish on your face?”

Soldier 76’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. He would actually rather he finish anywhere else, but least he had the courtesy to ask. It was probably something that he had seen in a porn once, 76 thinks sourly. But hey—if he’s stuck jerking off three men at once might as well throw in some cum on his face while they're at it. It wasn't like he could be degraded any more at this point.

Reaper is quick to answer for him. “Just do it.” He pulls out of his mouth and grips his chin to turn him towards the soldier, and all of a sudden the soldier is finishing on his face with a low keen.

76 closes his eyes to keep from getting cum in them. Just in time, too, because he can feel warm liquid splattering all over his face and onto his closed eyelids. Reaper laughs somewhere beside him, low and cruel.

The second soldier is not far behind, apparently, because he hears a grunt from him followed by a second load of cum being spilled onto his face in thick rivulets.

The moment he's sure that the both of them are done, 76 goes to wipe their semen away from his eyes with the back of his shirt sleeve. Thankfully, his mask was able to catch most of it. He can feel it running down his jaw and before he has a chance to wipe at it Reaper grabs his wrist and jerks his hand away. He uses the hand still on his jaw to urge him to keep sucking his cock.

Reaper lets out a gruff “That's a good boy,” under his breath when the vigilante finally obliges and starts to thrust into his mouth.

76 is okay with this. It's a lot less work for him to do, work he wasn't exactly feeling like doing with semen dripping down his face. It’s not until the wraith actually starts getting rough with his motions that he starts to have a problem with it.

“Look at me, beautiful.”

Jack resists. He doesn't want to give him that satisfaction.

Reaper's grip on his hair tightens. “ _Look at me.”_

He does, and 76 can feel the shame in his gut intensifying. He must look pathetic right now.

“So fucking pretty covered in cum like this…” Reaper groans and quickens his pace. He’s close judging by the lustful tone in his voice and his heavy breathing.

76 grips the base of his cock and moves it in time with the motions of his mouth to keep himself from choking again. Reaper apparently likes this, because he lets out a strangled-sounding gasp and tightens his hold on his hair—almost painfully so—before suddenly his orgasm is ripping through him and Jack’s mouth is filled with the overwhelming taste of _him._ It’s salty and bitter and he can't help but swallow it.

76 sits there for a couple moments, stunned, just watching Reaper’s heavy breathing as he comes down from his high. His legs are shaking. It's fascinating seeing him so unraveled, so unlike his typical stoic self. The wraith curses under his breath before tucking himself back into his pants and collapsing into the chair behind him.

Reaper lifts up his mask just enough to run a hand over his face. 76 tries to see what's underneath, what his old friend looks like now, but his face is too obscured by shadows to see anything before he's resettling it back onto his face.

He flips a hand in 76’s direction. “Escort him off the premises.”

The two guards look at each other, but they don't dare say a word; they're too smart for that. Defiance usually results in somebody going home with a broken limb. Instead, one of them—the tall one—reaches into a pouch on his uniform and pulls out a gun cleaning cloth.

He hands it to 76, who is still on his knees on the floor. “Here,” he says. His voice is unusually soft, as if he's trying to come off as especially nice after finishing all over his face. “It’s clean. I promise.”

76 gratefully takes it anyway and wipes at his face. It was either that or his shirt, and he wasn't looking to get it any dirtier that day. The other guard isn't so nice. His hand is like a vice grip on his shoulder the mine he’s finished, jerking him back to his feet.

“Hey.”

Reaper grabs his attention as he’s being half shoved out of the conference room.

“If you're ever interested, I’m sure Talon would be more than willing to hire a man with your set of _skills.”_

Soldier 76 tries to jerk free to rush at the wraith, but the guards’ hold on his shoulders is steadfast. He can still hear him laughing as the conference room door clicks shut behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> **Jack Morrison is a good man and doesn't deserve half the crap I put him through**


End file.
